Little Hands
by Nick-ed
Summary: Her hands. Those small, chubby little fingers. The hands of a cherub, of a nymph. And my hands, encrusted with dirt and blood, and made deadly with blades. To touch her is death, but to not touch her is worse. Freddy/Nancy; original universe background concepts from the remake (aka, gardener BG) *WARNING* Pedophilia and Freddy Kreuger go hand in hand.


No words…

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, watching her as she laughed and played with the others.

He shivered, grasping a weed firmly through his crusted leather glove, jerking it up and tearing it from the stiff soil. He flung it into the bucket beside his knee. He chanced another look at the girl, squinting through the bright sunlight from under the worn brim of his dusty-brown fedora.

She was wearing her blue dress, the one with the simple lace and white bordering. Simple, but breathtaking. He flung another thorny weed into the bucket and grabbed his trowel from the ground beside it. He dug into the dirt, scratching away at the surface and crudely mixing it with its moist interiors. He saw her in his mind: innocence and beauty radiating from her as if she were an angel. He grumbled under his breath as he hacked away at the earth violently.

No words…no words could describe his feelings of love, of loathing, of fear.

He pushed it out of his mind, disregarding the unimaginable, indescribable, unattainable emotions he suffered, burying then under the weight of denial.

"Freddy!"

Suddenly a small body was on top of him, clinging to his back, small hands gripping his loose, gritty, red and green sweater. She was laughing: a melodic sound, like the song of birds. Freddy gasped in semi-mocked surprise as he fell forward in an exaggerated movement.

"Oh no! She's got me!" He clutched his chest in fake, comedic pain as the girl clutching at his back shrieked with laughter, slapping at his shoulder-blades playfully. In a quick movement, she grabbed the wilting fedora from his head and jumped off him, scampering away to hide behind the playground slide. The other children watched and laughed in a chorus like bubbling water. He rose steadily to his feet and roared at them, gritting his teeth like a tiger and lunged forward with slick, cat-like speed. The children squealed with delight, running from them with their little legs as he stomped towards the playground.

"The big, bad wolf has lost his crown," he growled, grinning like a maniac, "Looks like the little princess will have to be eaten up!" He could hear her breathing from the other side of the slide, curled underneath the grainy plastic, in the sand, clutching his hat to her chest. He banged on the top of it, making her yelp in delighted terror.

"Come out, come out, princess!" His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper as he circled around the slide like a hyena around a maggoty corpse. "Or I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll—"

And she crawled out from underneath the slide, hands behind her back, smiling that angelic smile that tore Freddy in two. She brought the hat out from behind her and held its crumpled form out to him, stepping on her toes, trying to reach his hands. He cocked his head for a moment before silently taking it and adjusting it back on his head. He looked at her.

"And the Princess and the big, bad wolf lived happily ever after!" She said softly, her voice glowing as it flowed from her blushed lips. The gardener frowned.

"That's not the way the story goes, Nancy," he said quietly. She shuffled her feet shyly.

"Yes it is. It's our story, we do what we wanna." She puffed her cheeks in determination.

_We do what we want…_

Freddy dropped his eyes to the sand. "Nancy, I—"

"Get the wolf!" The chorus of voices shrieked. The mob of little children tackled him, throwing him into the hot sand, hanging onto his arms, his legs, his torso, wriggling and laughing. The man burst into laughter, his face implanted in the coarse sand. He tried to spit out the grains that fell into his mouth, but to no avail, as sand wormed its way across his tongue. He raised his arms up, sending the little people to dangle off his arms like leeches, spitting violently. And there was Little Nancy. By him. Grabbing at his sweater and laughing. And he wanted her.

The booming bell rang out with its deep, ominous voice. The children left him, skipping off in a wave towards the doors of the preschool where the open arms of their overseers waited patiently. God, how he hated those women, always judging him, always prying into his business._ Bitches._ Nancy lingered behind the group, waving back to Freddy with a distinct sense of sadness in her eyes. He grinned at her crookedly, waving back. The doors of the Badham Preschool engulfed her. His hand froze in midair and then dropped to the sandy ground beside him. He pushed himself up and walked back over to the garden-bed and picked up his trowel.

"…What we want…" he muttered under his breath. He turned the trowel over in his hand, watching the light reflect off it in rays of white.

With a controlled movement of agitation, Freddy Krueger dragged the pointed blades of the trowel across the soil and continued his previously interrupted job.

_No words could describe his want._


End file.
